


Guilty Pleasures

by ninchannie



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom Lee Minho | Lee Know, Chan is puppy, Choking, Cock Slapping, Come as Lube, Consensual Sex, Creampie, Dom Lee Minho | Lee Know, Dom/sub Undertones, Face Slapping, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Pet Names, Spit As Lube, Spit Kink, Top Bang Chan, chan has a pain kink, sub bang chan, thin walls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:01:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22665943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninchannie/pseuds/ninchannie
Summary: “You sing loud enough, I definitely know your music taste now.”, Minho says smiling and he could swear Chan’s eyes flicker to his lips for a split second. “Early 2000s.”The giggle that erupts from his neighbour can only be described as adorable, high and breathy and Minho is definitely not mad anymore. Far from it actually.“I wouldn’t call that my taste. It’s just… guilty pleasures.” Chan explains.OrMinho goes to complain to his new neighbour about his late night shower-singing-sessions. The conversation takes a surprising turn when his neighbour isn't only very sweet about the incident, but also insanely hot in not much more than a towel around his body.
Relationships: Bang Chan & Lee Minho | Lee Know, Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 33
Kudos: 458





	Guilty Pleasures

**Author's Note:**

> This is my 100 twitter follower celebration fic! I let polls decide on the plot and pairing and this is what came out of it!
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this filthy piece of writing and if you do, please leave kudos and comments to let me know!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading ~N

The first time it happened, Minho came home from classes and simply wanted to lay on the sofa and relax for the first time in what seemed like forever. His plans were rudely interrupted when a sudden noise reached his tired ears, even over the sound of the TV running a show in the background.

It took Minho a solid few minutes of muting the audio and walking down the length of his apartment to find the source, slightly less muffled in his bathroom and only lightly washed out by the sound of running water.

Here, there was no way to distinct the sound as _noise_ , simply because under normal circumstances it would never be classified as that. A caramel-soft voice, humming and singing the familiar lyrics of _I’m Yours_ and other generic pop songs.

On normal days, Minho would’ve probably been able to ignore it, or at least accept it and maybe enjoy the certainly not unpleasant voice. But, with a headache following hours of boring lectures and a tired ache settling into his bones, Minho found himself annoyed more than anything.

So, as any reasonable adult in a packed apartment complex would, Minho decided that instead of confronting his vocal neighbour, it would be a lot simpler to just give him a taste of his own medicine.

He did so, by plucking his phone into his speakers and putting on his _Hoe Anthem-_ Playlist, the familiar sounds of _Boss Bitch_ echoing through the room a moment later. Only two days had passed since he danced to the new song at the studio, but in the safety of his apartment, Minho ignored any steps of the choreography and just let himself loose.

Even with a tired body, the quick beat of the song helped him relax in a different way, just letting his feet decide where to carry him in the cramped space of his apartment. Minho even found himself laughing, as if all the stress accumulated over the day suddenly fell from his shoulders with each turn and jump.

One song turned to two and two somehow turned to five and a half, when Minho’s legs finally gave out and he let himself fall onto his couch again and unplugged his phone, ready to just get lost in the show on the TV again until he would fall asleep.

Minho nearly forgot the point of his late-night dance session, until he unmuted the TV and remembered the earlier voice drowning the audio out easily. Now, every sentence was perfectly audible, the warm voice pervading his apartment earlier seemingly having died down.

Fighting fire with fire always works it seemed.

That is, until two days later at least. Minho already pushed the incident to the back of his mind, just wanting to take a nice steaming shower to rinse of the sweat of yet another evening session at the gym. With each year passing it seems to get harder and harder to fit working out into a mundane schedule. So late nights or early mornings it is, and Minho definitely knows which one he prefers.

He is _just_ stepping into the shower, turning on the water and balancing on the dangerous path between disgustingly lukewarm and skin-scorching hot, when the water turns ice cold.

Now, living in a cheap apartment complex, Minho knows these things happen. Has found out that whenever someone on his floor as much as washes their hands while he is trying to shower, he will have to wait for about half a minute until the water will warm up to a bearable temperature again.

For all that concerns him, he really doesn’t care much about it, because he either showers at one or six in the morning, both times when most other inhabitants are still asleep. That’s why the fact that he has to stand in the cramped cabin, shuddering and waiting for the water to turn hot again already has Minho on edge.

The thing that tips it over the edge, is the voice suddenly appearing again. Of course, it would be his direct neighbour, just a wall away, who showers this deep into the night as well.

Quite ironically, he isn’t singing a calm song this evening either, no, he is warbling an embarrassingly out of tune version of _Toxic_ that not one person in the world could possibly ignore. Any other time, Minho would probably find it endearing or at least funny, but shuddering under cold water, just wanting to calm down after a hard day, he finds himself grow angry quickly.

That’s why he showers himself at lightning speed when the water finally turns bearable again, quickly scrubbing the sweat off his body and hair. His neighbour only just switched to an early 2000s boyband classic, when Minho jumps out of the shower and dries himself off.

Just for the fucks of it, he flushes the toilet, sure enough hearing a light yelp in the song when his neighbour is hit with a wave of cold water, a hint of satisfaction settling into Minho.

He won’t let him get off easy though, already slapping on lotion and fixing his hair as much as possible in it’s wet condition, to quickly jump into sweatpants and a random shirt, not caring about underwear or a jacket when he is only going over to threaten his neighbour with a noise complaint.

When Minho leaves his apartment, locking the door behind him and plopping the keys into the pocket of his sweats, he wonders who his neighbour might be. On the short walk over he remembers the young woman living there before, probably moving out to live with her partner and start a family. A pure philistine.

Groaning, he hopes for his new neighbour to be someone he could talk to more easily, maybe a student like him, but definitely not a stuck-up close-to-thirty square that would somehow turn the story around or not accept his complaint.

When he finally arrives at the door, Minho doesn’t waste a second before knocking against it harshly. He can’t hear any sounds coming out from the apartment here, of course only suffering in his own because of their shared bathroom wall. At least the front door seems to be somewhat isolating.

Minho, like the saint he is, doesn’t even wait five seconds before bringing his fist down on the door again, knocking harder than he probably needs to, just for the sake of it. Maybe he understands why his best friend calls him _petty_ sometimes. Not that he would ever admit that in front of him of course.

Just as Minho is raising his hand again, the sound of a key turning in a lock picks up and the door cracks open ever so slightly.

Shy eyes peak out of the small gap, not enough for Minho to get a full picture, but sufficiently satisfying in the way he can see water drip through his neighbours slightly raised eyebrow. At least Minho managed to disrupt him in the shower.

“ _Uhm_ , yeah?” His neighbour asks and Minho recognizes the now unmuffled voice in an instant, however a lot more dumbfounded than when singing Britney. It’s understandable in a way, finding a random stranger punching at your door in the middle of the night probably a little unsettling.

“I’m Minho, I live next door.” Minho begins, motioning to the right with his thumb. Instead of getting the hint, his neighbour just looks even more confused as he opens the door a tiny bit more, revealing pale naked skin and oh, Minho kind of wants to punch the door in, because are those _abs_?

“Well, hi Minho living next door?” The words turn into a question, the man seemingly still not understanding why his neighbour is suddenly at his door in the middle of the night.

“I hope you’re aware that we have _really_ thin walls.” It’s incredible how easy Minho can read his neighbour even through the small crack in the door. A slow crimson blush makes it up his cheeks and Minho has to fight everything inside of him to not look down and see if it spans down his chest as well.

“I- we- _uh,_ give me a second.”

_Smooth_ , Minho thinks right before the door is slammed in his face. That certainly is a first.

He is too baffled to move, what is his neighbour even thinking? Is he trying to hide in his flat now, unaware that Minho is _way_ too persistent to let this go so easily? Is he too embarrassed to talk to him? He can’t dwell on it for too long, because the door opens again, this time further and his neighbour is stepping to the side, gesturing for Minho to walk in.

_Interesting_.

Trying to not look as confused as he is, Minho walks in and only turns around to the man when he hears the door click shut. Much to his dismay, his neighbour is wearing a shirt now, probably that having been the reason for him to slam the door in his face.

Minho gets it, but wonders if it was worth it, when he realizes that his neighbour is still very much only wearing a towel around his hips and the shirt is soaking through with residue wetness from the shower.

“Wow, _uhm_ , yeah. Hi. I’m Chan.” The man, Chan, holds out a hand for Minho to shake and the other has to hold back a laugh at it. It shouldn’t be so adorable when someone stutters in his presence, hell, is probably stumbling over words for other reasons, but Minho will believe the illusion for as long as it lasts. He is flustering his neighbour.

“You sure you’re not Britney?” Minho says and takes his hand to give it a firm shake.

Chan chokes on air at the words, that beautiful flush returning and Minho revels in the fact that it is definitely running down his neck and disappearing under the hem of his shirt.

“Yeah, I’m _really_ sorry about that. I never really thought about how loud I must be.” This time he doesn’t stutter but smiles rather sheepishly and Minho notices with dread that he finds it _endearing_ , all of his built-up anger suddenly dissipated into nothingness.

“Loud enough, I definitely know your music taste now.”, Minho says smiling and he could swear Chan’s eyes flicker to his lips for a split second. “Early 2000s.”

The giggle that erupts from his neighbour can only be described as _adorable_ , high and breathy and yup, Minho is definitely not mad anymore. Far from it actually.

“I wouldn’t call that my _taste_. It’s just… guilty pleasures.” Chan explains.

This time, Minho is sure he doesn’t imagine the other’s eyes dropping to his lips, before Chan swallows hard.

“Guilty pleasures.” Minho hums and doesn’t miss the way Chan’s lips open in a silent gasp. Slowly, he takes his eyes off of Chan, taking in his apartment that is still very much in the _moving in_ state, boxes and bags sitting around in every corner.

“Do you… do you maybe want something to drink? As an apology?” The words snap Minho’s attention back to Chan, who is fiddling nervously with the hem of his shirt.

“Are you sure? It’s like two in the morning.”, Minho raises his brows and Chan’s eyes grow big. “If you’re up for it, I’d love to get that apology.”

Finally, Chan seems to relax as he goes past Minho to his kitchen, opening a few cupboards and collecting two mismatched cups. He scavenges through his kitchen for a bit before turning around and looking at Minho apologetically.

“You have the humble selection of stale sprite, water, cough syrup, or one-minute ramen.” Chan looks like he’s ready to be swallowed up by the ground.

Minho smiles only a tiny bit meanly. “Luxurious…”, he says, before grinning at his neighbour in an attempt to show him that he doesn’t mind. “As much as I’d like to get high off cough syrup, I doubt we’re close enough for that.”, this manages to crack Chan’s up enough to smile brightly. “Ramen?”

Minho has known his neighbour for all but five minutes, but the way his whole face lights up at his suggestion makes him feel some peculiar way already. Why does he have to be so fucking cute?

“Let’s share?” Chan asks, furthering Minho’s belief of _cute_.

He nods and sits down where Chan frees a chair at the counter for him, before watching him work around the kitchen and preparing the ramen. This evening surely took a _very_ unexpected turn.

  
Chan can’t quite believe his luck when he slurps down another mouthful of ramen before sliding the bowl over to Minho again.

In every other instance of someone knocking at his door well past midnight, Chan would take a look through the peephole in his door and act like he is peacefully sleeping in his bed. Call him naïve or plain out stupid, when he found a drop-dead gorgeous man instead of a scary looking maniac, he was easy to open his door.

Now, with said man not only standing outside of his door but even eating a bowl of cheap ramen with him, Chan is glad he ignored his reasonable brain this one time.

Talking to Minho comes easy. Barely twenty minutes into talking and gobbling down noodles, Chan knows more about him than any of his classmates at uni.

Minho is a dancer and much like Chan’s own, Minho’s parents make him study something _useful_ , next to fulfilling his dreams of becoming a professional artist. He likes cheap reality TV, anime and cats, all things he becomes incredibly excited over, all sparkling eyes and bright smiles.

On top of seeming like a fun and decent human being in general, Minho is _stunning_. Chan would probably put him on his personal most beautiful faces list in an instant, if it wasn’t for his own decent self trying to stay away from labels like that.

He can’t help but zone out however, when Minho gets _very_ excited about a newly airing anime Chan has never even heard of. For a minute, he gets lost in Minho’s eyes, in the sharp angels of his jaw, yet the soft curves of his lips and cheeks.

It must be _incredibly_ obvious staring, because Minho stops speaking in the middle of a sentence and smiles so infuriatingly teasing, Chan feels his heart stop when he realizes it’s because of his indecency. He has an apology on his lips when Minho speaks up, his voice matching the evil glint in his eyes.

“Like what you see?”

It feels like Chan’s blood freezes in his veins, the moment seemingly stretching forever as Minho just smiles wider, placing the bowl down on the coffee table.

“It’s okay, I know that I’m pretty.”, Minho adds, his voice laced with a stinging sweetness. “You’re pretty too, Chan.”

Whiplash must feel similar to what Chan is experiencing, thrown from one extreme to the other at the mercy of Minho’s words. Chan never felt this _useless_ with someone else, so lost for words because his brain decided to short circuit with someone as gorgeous and charismatic as Minho in front of Chan.

“You- I-,”, Chan groans to himself. “I swear I can talk like a normal person, you’re just-“

“I know.”, Minho’s chuckle feels like a dagger piercing right through Chan’s heart. In a good way. “We don’t need to talk though.”

Chan only catches on when Minho bends forward and slowly crawls closer to him on all fours. He has half a mind to admire how feline he looks like this, before a hot hand presses against the damp fabric of his shirt, lightly pushing him backwards to lay down on the couch.

He lets it happen without reluctance, his mouth opened in shock when he expects Minho to straddle him then and there, but instead pulls back altogether.

“Is this okay?” He asks, all trace of teasing and sweet venom gone from his voice. Finally, Chan can think again.

Sure, Minho might be the highest level of seductive Chan has ever encountered, but that doesn’t mean he is completely useless himself. Normally at least.

So, with trained patience, Chan pushes a damp strand of hair out of his forehead and props himself onto his elbows to regain some sort of dominance stance. He prays the trembling of his lips isn’t visible as he smirks in a way that he knows makes people feel weak in the knees.

“ _Fuck_ yes.” Well, he tried.

Minho laughs out loud. It should be cute or inviting, but instead it is deprecating in every way and Chan notices with dread what it is doing to him. That he is slowly hardening up under the towel.

He tries to nonchalantly place his hand in a way that covers himself a bit more, his bulge already noticeable through the thin fabric. Instead, it catches Minho’s attention and his eyes flicker down to Chan’s crotch. He either does a great job at hiding his erection or Minho chooses to ignore it, because his gaze only lingers for a second.

“Charming.” He says then, a remark to Chan’s earlier outbreak of horny stupidity and that’s all it takes for Chan to melt into that same state again. Especially when Minho finally climbs over him.

He swats Chan’s hand away to settle in its place instead, his knees on either side of Chan’s hips. Slowly, Minho runs his hands above Chan’s chest, over the fabric of his shirt, feeling up his abs to satisfy the want he felt when first laying eyes on his neighbour’s body.

When he reaches Chan’s shoulders, Minho bends forward and nuzzles into the space right below Chan’s ear, bathing in the sound of his breath hitching at just that. Oh, Minho will have so much fun completely and utterly ruining Chan.

With teeth grazing against his neighbour’s skin ever so slightly, Minho decides to test out just _how_ that could happen.

“You’re hard from me laughing at you? That’s adorable, Chan.”, Minho giggles when the other whines sweetly underneath him. “Such a pathetic baby.”

Chan moans like he is getting the sex of his life, his hips bucking up into Minho unintentionally and it earns him another deprecating chuckle. He is completely hard by now, pressed heavily against Minho and it’s embarrassing, because Minho seems so unfazed, yet Chan has been ready to get it on with the moment he laid eyes on his hot neighbour.

“You’re cute,”, Minho whispers right into his ear. “Rutting against me like a dumb little puppy.”

“ _Please_ , oh, please Minho, _fuck_.” Chan whines, hips pushing up against his will again and another rush of embarrassment shudders through him.

“So eager. Kiss me first, would you?”, Minho’s voice is vibrating against his skin, a sizzling electricity that stays even when Minho sits up a bit more again, looking down at Chan and _waiting_. “Come on puppy, don’t make me do all the work.”

Wherever the pet name comes from, Chan has half a brain cell to spare to wonder why he _likes_ it so much, before his fingers tangle in Minho’s top on their own accord, pulling him down with it until their breathes mingle together into one.

They taste like ramen and spices when their lips finally touch, Chan’s eyes immediately rolling back and closing as Minho takes complete control over him, like his mind is being overridden by the other completely.

Normally he would try to take the lead, to overpower his partner and take them apart slowly, but with Minho on him, pressed together flush and hot, it seems like there is no chance for Chan to do that. Hell, why would he even _want_ to take control, when it feels this good to be on the receiving end of such attention.

On top of that, he doubts he could do much of anything against his neighbour. Sure, Chan’s body might be strong but mentally Minho seems to have him caged in a corner of need and arousal, just waiting willingly for anything he would be granted.

What starts as a kiss lasts for mere moments, before turning more and more heated and wet. Almost embarrassingly, Chan bucks up whenever Minho tilts his head or captures Chan’s bottom lip in a tingling bite.

When he feels a wet tongue lightly graze over him, Chan can’t possibly hold back a moan, his mouth opening wide and inviting Minho in easily. His hands finally untangle from the soft fabric and find purpose on Minho’s hips, fingers digging in hard and pulling his body down against a sharp thrust of his hips with ease.

It finally cracks Minho’s armour of fake ignorance as he gasps into Chan’s mouth and ruts back against him, now his own hard-on very much apparent to the other. Given the chance, Chan uses the moment to take a bit of control back, licking into Minho’s mouth and grazing his tongue over his teeth before lightly sucking on his bottom lip.

To answer, Minho presses his groin down hard against Chan, their dicks now pressed together and only separated by two thin layers of fabric.

It puts Chan back into his place of a moaning and grinding mess at Minho’s mercy, who is quick to run his tongue against Chan’s again, not caring about the globs of drool dripping out between their lips.

He thrusts now too however, answering Chan’s movements like they are both back to being horny teenagers unable to hold themselves back. Neither of them cares that they have barely known each other for more than thirty minutes, something between them just working perfectly together and Minho wouldn’t mind to even go a bit further.

He shows his intention by slowly pushing his hand under Chan’s shirt, nails digging over his soft skin and toned abs up to his sides, until he can feel his neighbour tremble and keen against him with each touch of his fingertips.

Chan’s hands push at his hips again and Minho thinks it’s to thrust against him with more purpose again, but instead one of his hands travels up higher and pushes at his chest as well, slowly prying them away from each other.

Minho tries his hardest to not pout at the sudden loss of body contact.

“What’s up?” He asks instead, trying to cover the way his skin is burning up in a blush by licking over his spit-slick lips. It seems to work when Chan’s dark eyes immediately drift from his eyes to his mouth, lingering on the mess for a few seconds.

“I-“, he starts when he finally pries his eyes away to grasp at least some coherent thoughts. “I’ve never done this before…”

The words linger between them as Minho cocks his head to the side, looking the split image of a confused kitten until his eyes grow wide and he tries and scramble off of Chan’s lap. The grip his neighbour has on him however keeps him pressed in place.

“ _What_?”, his voice is high when the word tumbles out. “Like, ever?”

Now it is Chan’s turn to look confused and reach revelation after a few seconds. “Oh, _oh_! No not like that, I’ve done _this_ before.”, he gestures between them with one hand. “I just… I was always in a relationship. I usually don’t sleep with people I barely know, and I’d hate for you to think I’m just an asshole trying to get into your pants.”

There that laugh is again, first tiny and cute but soon louder and Chan feels so _small_ because of it, so pathetic and embarrassed because Minho is really laughing about him and his words and it hurts. It stings right in his chest, but it feels so good, Chan thinks he won’t ever be able to live without it again.

“First off,”, Minho begins, when he catches his breath again. “I doubt you had a plan of getting into my pants that included singing Britney in the shower until I come over to complain. Secondly, I _want_ you in my pants, I wouldn’t be here otherwise. Believe it or not, but I’m here because you’re hot and not because I’m a desperate, touch-starved twink.”

Part of it is the truth, Minho really wouldn’t be there if he wouldn’t totally be into Chan, but that doesn’t exclude the possibility of him being touch-starved. The weeks of stress leading up to this evening surely weren’t particularly exciting for him.

“Oh.”

For the umpteenth time that night, Chan feels dumbfounded by Minho, completely useless at forming sentences. It’s lucky that the way Minho looks down at him like he is something small, chuckles at the look of pure surprise, feels like a reward to Chan more than anything else.

“So, Mister I-only-fuck-in-relationships.”, Minho bends down again, whispering right next to Chan’s ear. “Do you want to make an exception this once?”

Instead of giving an answer, Chan basically growls as he grips Minho’s waist with one hand and buries the other in his hair to pull them upwards into a sitting position. “Bed.” He mutters, but is already standing up, Minho’s legs wrapping around him instinctively.

As if he weighs nothing, Chan carries Minho to his bed, skilfully manoeuvring them around boxes and pieces of furniture. When they finally reach their destination, Chan all but throws Minho onto his mattress, quickly climbing after him and peppering open mouthed kisses up his thigh and chest until he reaches his neck.

Minho lets him have his fun there, mind still fuzzy from being hoisted around like nothingness. His hands find their way to the slightly damp curls at the nape of Chan’s neck pulling lightly every so often to feel a graze of teeth against his skin.

When he feels like there can’t possibly be a stretch of unmarked skin left, his whole neck tingling with blood rushing under the surface he pulls Chan back by the grip in his hair, smiling when he gets a glimpse of eyes rolling back and a cute mewl out of him.

“Puppy likes that? Likes when I pull his hair?” He coos, a finger trailing over Chan’s swollen lips to his cheek and tapping there a few times.

With heavy panting, Chan slowly opens his eyes again, revealing shining orbs of dark need. “Please, Minho. Pull my hair, slap me, choke me. Love it all.”

A shudder runs through Minho at the pure thought of how perfectly made for him Chan seems to be.

Keeping his gaze locked to Chan’s, Minho smiles evilly and presses his palm against Chan’s cheek, patting his heated skin ever so slightly and keening at the way he winces away slightly, as if already scared of the impact of his hand. _Cute_.

“Really? Want me to hurt you?”, He asks and gets a quick nod in return. His smile falters. “You need to use your words if you expect this to work out.”

Chan’s eyes tear up as a whine leaves his throat, his cock leaking into the towel that by now is loose enough to fall off of his hips any second.

“P- _plea-_ “

Minho slaps him before he can even finish the word.

The moan ripped from Chan’s throat can only be described as animalistic. His cheek is stinging from the sharp impact, the whole left side of his face turning a beautiful shade of pink in the vague shape of Minho’s hand.

Before Minho can even speak up and make the degrading remark burning on his tongue, Chan is already begging for more.

“Again, please Minho again.” His bottom lip is quivering like he might cry any second.

“Oh puppy…”, Minho hums. “You have to earn your rewards, don’t you?”

Chan’s eyes widen in shock and he quickly nods. Of course he has to earn it first, how stupid of him to even ask for it like this. “Yes, I’m s-sorry.” He apologizes and Minho smiles all too sweetly.

With the hand still buried in Chan’s curls, he roughly pulls his head back, gaining a loud gasp as Chan is forced to look up at the ceiling and Minho bites and nibbles over his throat.

“Think you can undress us? I have to do all the work here, so it would be nice to at least get some help with that.” The words hurt, implying that Chan can’t even the most basic of things, but it doesn’t prove to be too far off, because the angle his head is still held in, along with the way his fingers tremble as they search for Minho’s shirt, sure make it harder than it should be.

He finally manages to pull the fabric off, with the help of Minho detaching from his throat momentarily. His own shirt goes too, with a bit more difficulty this time, because Minho’s fingers are tracing over the lines of his abs as soon as the fabric is lifted, effectively running Chan’s brain into overdrive for a few seconds.

Finally, they are both topless and Chan only has to pull lightly on the towel for the knot to completely loosen and the fabric to fall off. He carelessly throws it to the side and only then Minho pulls back and takes him in.

The colour of Chan’s tip reminds Minho of the crimson blush left on his cheek. The head of his cock shining with beads of precum, a new wave rolling out of the slit as he is so intensely stared at and it’s also smearing onto his stomach, where his erection curls up proud and tall. Chan has a considerable size, not too big but definitely more than the average guy Minho catches at the club.

Minho’s mouth suddenly feels much too wet, saliva pooling with the sudden want to taste and he has to will it down with every fibre of his doing, reminding that he can very easily do that another time.

Chan seems to have forgotten his objective as he just sits there with a blush creeping down to his ribcage, fingers fumbling in the duvet cover. It only takes a raised eyebrow and glance from Chan’s face to his own still-clad legs, for him to catch on again, fingers quickly tangling under the waistband of Minho’s sweatpants.

Standing up to help get them completely off, Minho slips off his slippers as well before pushing Chan back into the mattress, not giving him a chance to even really admire his body.

He straddles him again, both men hissing in unison when their cocks touch skin on skin for the first time. Despite having just showered, there’s a thin layer of sweat already creeping up on Minho’s skin and he can feel the same on Chan too, could taste it under his tongue even when going at his neck earlier.

Without hesitation he bends forward and captures Chan’s chin in his hand, holding his face in place. “Open up, puppy.” And Chan obeys immediately, parting his lips and sticking his tongue out a bit for whatever Minho would give him.

The smile from his neighbour alone is worth it, before Minho opens his mouth as well, slipping his tongue out for Chan to see the huge pool of saliva on it, slowly dripping and dripping, but right before it can fall Minho closes his lips again.

Chan only has time to furrow his brows before Minho spits into his open mouth, immediately bending down to connect their tongues in feverish desire. Chan’s mouth goes slack as he lets Minho do the work, high whines trembling in his throat as his hips rut up rhythmically with Minho’s movements again, this time giving much more relieve than before.

Minho can feel spit drip out of Chan’s mouth, running down the side of his face and over where his fingers are still holding his chin in place. It gives him an idea, seemingly at the right time, because Chan is rutting against him with such urgency, Minho is worried he might come any second.

So he pulls back, leaving Chan wet and hot and itching for touches of any sort.

Instead, Minho just swipes his fingers through the mess on Chan’s face before he turns around on his knees, bending over with his clean hand supporting his weight and the other already spreading his cheeks open, wetting his hole with the mess of spit on his fingers.

He has to strain his neck to see Chan from this position, but when he does a content moan spills out of Minho’s throat. Chan’s mouth is opened with low whines, drool still running out of one corner. His face is still slightly red where Minho slapped him earlier, his chest a similar shade of pink, but where his cock earlier mirrored the shade of red on his face, it’s now a shade close to purple.

Satisfied with what he sees, Minho plunges two of his fingers into his mouth, wetting them thoroughly before reaching back around and circling his hole with his index finger.

Chan stops moving at that, all sounds dying down until Minho finally pushes one slick finger in slowly, not stopping until he is buried as deep as he can in his position. With the breath that leaves him, a loud moan echoes from Chan, as if he is the one being fingered open.

Despite there having been some time since he was last fucked, Minho accepts his finger easily. He moves in and out slowly, crooking and bending here and there to really open himself as deep as he can.

It soon isn’t nearly enough, so he adds another finger, this time a bit more carefully before he feels every bit of discomfort leave his body. Chan is panting again, moaning with each huff of air and Minho is surprised at the level of self-restraint he has, not once having to remind him to not touch himself.

Chan must be so close by now, riled up for a while and obviously turned on by every single thing Minho is doing to him. It’s a lie to say that Minho isn’t slowly growing impatient himself, just wanting to be opened and relaxed for Chan to finally get inside.

“Want to help me, puppy?”, he asks because of it, glad that his voice doesn’t reflect the way he feels, shaky and close to falling apart. Chan nearly topples over at the sudden words, eager to please. “There’s still space for another finger…”

Minho could very well do that himself, add a third finger and stretch himself, but he can’t quite reach deep in his position, and he can definitely not press over where he so deeply wants it. Thankfully, Chan is already crawling over on shaky legs.

“L-lube?” His voice is broken with moans, raspy and wet and it goes straight to Minho’s cock (and his ego).

Chuckling, Minho shakes his head. “Just use spit.”, He assures, rolling his eyes at the way a short moment of worry crosses Chan’s face. “If you’re worried, use a lot. Now come on, puppy.”

All the good boy, Chan swallows down his thoughts and moves behind Minho, closely looking at the way his fingers are still buried deep inside. Hooked on his two fingers like he is, Minho pulls them backwards, opening himself for Chan to see the spit-wet mess of his hole, clenching with an echoing wet sound.

It seems to be the last thing that pushes Chan’s worries away completely as he bends over Minho’s ass, spreads him open even further with his hands and lets a glob of spit drop down onto his trembling opening.

Minho quickly pulls his fingers out to run them through it, before pushing them back in even easier with the added wetness. Chan sucks on his fingers for a bit, wetting them thoroughly out of fear of hurting Minho.

It’s annoying, really, and at any other given moment Minho would turn around and punish Chan for it, but given he is close to orgasming anyway and he just wants Chan to fill him up, he lets it slip.

To show his dismay, Minho drops his head on his forearm with a groan, teasing his fingers in deeper to hopefully beckon Chan further.

Finally, Chan obliges, and Minho can feel a dripping finger trace over his stretched rim. Much to his surprise however it isn’t one finger entering him. Sure enough, two fingers a slowly being pushed in besides his two, inching further and further way past his own fingers with a stinging sensation.

“ _Fuuuck_!” Minho moans, not able to possibly hold back, especially when Chan begins to move, not even thrusting but scissoring and stretching and bending until he finally, _finally_ grazes over Minho’s prostate.

Minho moans again and presses himself back against Chan’s fingers, getting them as deep as possible one last time before crawling forward and pulling his own fingers out, alongside Chan’s.

He can hear his hole clench wetly around nothing, feels that deep ache of emptiness that only can be filled by a cock, but he will have to wait. Chan was bad after all and needs to be reminded of who’s in charge it seems.

When Minho turns around and pushes Chan flat on his back, he thinks the other might cum just from that, his cock twitching against his own stomach and the whole head wet with precum. He doesn’t and Minho thanks the universe for Chan’s seemingly endless stamina.

“I have two questions, puppy.”, Minho’s voice is icy, a slight tremble noticeable but Chan is too far gone to hear it. “Are you clean?” Because really, Minho’s plan is dependant on that and that alone.

It takes a long few moments for Chan to realize what he is being asked, but when he does, he quickly nods. “Yeah, I got tested a few weeks ago. You?” His voice is clearer than Minho would have expected, showing that Chan is really there to answer truthfully and not completely lost in his lust anymore.

“Me too. You’re fine with no condom then?” Minho straddles Chan’s thighs as he asks.

“ _Please_ ,”, there he is again, mindless and whiny. “Want to feel you so bad.”

“You will, puppy. But first I have to punish you.” His voice is sweet compared to the evil glint in his eyes and the devilish smile on his lips.

“P-punish?” Chan can feel his eyes get wet again, the thought of having done something wrong turning his guts inside out. He just wants Minho to be happy and content with him.

“Yes, punish. I said one finger and you couldn’t hold back and gave me two. That needs to be punished, don’t you think?”, Minho doesn’t expect an answer and doesn’t get one, instead just a shy nod of Chan’s head. “What’s your favourite number, puppy?”

“I d-don’t know, thirty-seven?” Chan doesn’t seem to get the connection between the question and the punishment, or else he would’ve taken a number way lower. Thankfully, Minho is far too riled up to be _that_ evil.

“That’s so much, puppy, I can’t wait that long.”, Only now Chan seems to catch up, his eyes suddenly widening in horror. “ _Hmmm_ , how about that, what’s three plus seven?”

Now, Chan isn’t dumb, especially not with kindergarten level maths, but with Minho already playing with him for what feels like _hours_ , he needs the better part of a minute to come to the result. “T-ten?”

As soon as the answer leaves his lips, Minho’s deprecating laugh echoes through the room and Chan feels his throat tighten up with the promise of tears falling soon.

“Well done, puppy.”, Minho coos, still chuckling with Chan blushing furiously. His expression changes to completely unreadable in the next second. “I’ll slap your pretty little cock ten times. You can’t come before I’m done, okay? I promise, you can fuck me after.”

Chan whines loudly, his hips hiking up into the air. He nods again and allows Minho to press him down flat on the mattress, sinking back down on his thighs to keep him in place.

Minho can feel wetness run down to his balls, a reminder of the emptiness he can’t quite forget about, so he is quick to raise his palm. “Be loud puppy.” He says, this time real affection in his voice, before he finally brings his palm down and slaps Chan’s cock moderately, testing the waters.

Chan screams. It’s a mess of Minho’s name and profanities and begging for more, so the other is quick to comply, landing two smacks back to back.

It has Chan fist his hands into the duvet, clenching the fabric tight in an attempt for something to keep him together. It stings, it hurts, but somehow it is the most perfect thing he ever felt and all he wants to do is come.

One hand reaching out to hold Chan down on the mattress by the hip, Minho slaps him twice again, before bringing his hand down _hard_ , right at Chan’s tip. A wave of precum splatters over his stomach when his cock jumps a few times after the impact.

Tears start flowing freely when the next slap lands equally hard, this time closer to Chan’s balls.

“P-please, gonna c-cum.” Chan chokes on the words as sobs start ripping through him. His cock is aching from the slaps as well as the tightness of needing to release.

The skin of his cock is bright red now, all over and Minho smoothes over it for a few seconds. “Just three more, puppy, you can do it.”

Minho slaps him a bit lighter again, the palm of his hand burning with it too. Chan cries out, hiccupping under his breath as his tears just keep spilling over.

“Two more, you’re doing so good.” Minho praises and as soon as Chan whines his name again, he delivers another harsh spank to Chan’s aching length.

“ _Fuckfuckfuck_ , c-cum, I’ll cum.” Chan can already feel that familiar pulling and tightening in his groin, knows that he can’t possibly hold back much longer.

“A bit longer for me and I promise it will be worth it. Just one more.” And with that, Minho slaps down on Chan’s tip again, less harsh this time but enough to have his whole body arch up and wail on the bed.

“Please, please, _please_ , c-can’t-“ Chan cries, sobs, whines under steady moans and noises ripping from his throat. His eyes are burning, his cock aches like he was stripped off a whole layer of skin, but suddenly a warm, wet hand smoothes over him and strokes him through the pain.

It only lasts a second before Chan can feel Minho move and with the last bit of strength in his body, he opens his eyes to see Minho position himself over his cock, wet with spit and sinking into his wet heat easily.

Pure warmth settles around him slowly, like a tincture against his pains and when it finally captures him completely, Chan feels like he can finally breathe again.

Minho clenching around him and moaning a loud “Come for me, puppy” is all it needs for Chan to finally let loose and allow his orgasm to wash over him.

White spots fill his vision as he spurts wave after wave of his release into Minho, coming for what seems like minutes. His whole body feels fuzzy when Minho bends forward and nuzzles his face into Chan’s neck, breathing in his scent and nipping at the skin here and there until Chan stops crying and moaning and his heart calms to a normal racing pace.

Only then, Minho moves back a bit to be able to look at Chan’s face, wet with tears and his eyes bloodshot, a pink splotchy flush all over his cheeks.

He’s still seated on Chan, grinding his hips ever so slightly in what must be the hugest amount of self-restraint Chan has ever encountered. He can feel Minho’s cock twitch between them, hard and hot and it must hurt him by now too, just as much as it must’ve hurt Chan earlier.

“You okay?” Minho whispers and it’s sweet and pleasant, different than any earlier versions of his voice and Chan can feel his heart flutter in response.

“So good, Minho, just-just wish I could really fuck you now.” Chan’s voice is raspy from exertion and crying, but he hopes the meaning in his words comes across. That he wants to take care of Minho just as much.

“ _Shh_ , I’ll take care of that in a minute.” Minho assures, kissing and nipping along Chan’s jaw and feeling the slightest hint of stubble against his cheek. Chan must’ve shaved in the morning, tiny prickly stubs of hair already grown back, and it does worlds in grounding Minho and forcing him to hold out a bit longer.

It’s those mundane things, like stubble or a layer of sweat, freckles on pale skin and tiny nipples on defined pecs. The way Chan’s breath hitches when Minho finally kisses him again and his spent cock twitches inside of the other, never completely softened, but more in a state of waiting to go back to full hardness.

Minho feels it all, his senses heightened by the sheer amount of arousal surging through him. Sex hasn’t felt this good in a long time. Hell, it barely ever came close to this, when all of his partners tried to assert some mediocre stance of dominance and barely held out with Minho’s energy at their hands.

Chan lets him do how he pleases, begs for all of him even and Minho can’t deny that it does things to him, the thought of having someone as strong-looking as Chan completely pliant under his mercy easily the hottest thing he ever had the pleasure to encounter.

Even now, completely done after a mind-blowing orgasm, Chan lets Minho roam and conquer as he pleases, tiny whines even spilling out when nails dig into his scalp, or teeth find purpose on his tongue.

It brings him back to complete hardness in an embarrassingly short amount of time, stretching Minho from deep inside again and trapping his own release where it slowly made its way down his softened cock.

Despite every ounce of remorse to hold out, Minho can’t help but clench at the beautiful feeling of being filled up to completion, pure wetness and heat spreading throughout his guts and to the tips of his toes when Chan’s hands land on his thighs and press him down so he’s buried balls deep in Minho’s heat.

There should be a sizzling sound somehow, Chan thinks, his cock still burning from earlier and Minho around him feels like he is searing away all the pain, to make space for a deeper urge of punching and pulling and filling him up even more. Hell, Chan can feel squelching wetness all around him and all he can think about is shooting another load deep into Minho. More and more and more until he is gaping and leaking all over.

It’s something he never really thought about. To fill someone up with his cum until both of them are too spent to even move, to breed them so full they can’t possibly think about anything else. Even though he never though about it, it’s what pulls him from oversensitivity and exertion to feral need and he can’t hold back when his hips start to grind up into Minho at their own accord.

The yelps and moans he gets are enough proof for Chan to know that Minho enjoys his sudden outburst of energy, so he is quick to move his hands from beautiful soft thighs to the small of Minho’s waist and hoist him up, knees propping up on the bed to be able to truly plow into the other.

When he finally does, Minho can’t help but cry out, the sudden brutal force and pace with which he is spread open again and again a stark contrast to his earlier controlled actions. His legs are trembling where they are hovering over the duvet, Chan basically holding him up like nothing more than a toy to fuck into and Minho _loves_ it, has never felt like some object to use before, but doubts he’ll ever be able to _not_ think about it again.

Chan is hitting all the right spots, deep and hard and he’s grazing over Minho’s bundle of nerves every few thrusts or so, making him see stars and feel electric pain shoot up his spine in the best way possible.

Neither of them have half a mind to spare about their thin walls and the primal sounds echoing through the room, screams and cries and groans, the loud slapping of skin and squelching noises of Minho’s mess of a hole when some of Chan’s cum squirts out by the sheer force and speed of Chan’s thrusts.

It doesn’t take long like this at all until Minho can feel himself throb and a familiar sting build up in his gut, his body chasing after a long-needed orgasm at the speed of Chan’s thrusts. Thankfully, his neighbour seems to be in a similar state, his arms giving out and basically dropping Minho onto his cock, his movements coming to a halt deep inside, to catch a few rattling breaths.

It’s Minho’s only chance, really, to regain control of the situation, to get back the upper hand before Chan will have enough energy again to completely wreck him.

“P-puppy can fuck me after all. Fucks me so open I won’t be able to sit tomorrow.”, Minho’s voice is broken too, not as steady as he’d like it to be, but Chan is hanging on his lips with every word anyway, his cock twitching inside Minho’s swollen walls pathetically. “Can puppy cum again for me? Fill me up even more?”

Chan’s reaction is something Minho wouldn’t have expected at this point, tears slowly trickling down his cheeks again as a high sob wrecks his ruined throat. He shakes his head.

“N-need more, p-please.” He utters, barely more than a whisper. Chan never came twice in the matter of minutes, barely even in the matter of hours and as good as it feels to fuck Minho like there’s no tomorrow, there’s an ache in his bones and a sting in his groin that keeps him from reaching his release.

“More? What is it that you want, puppy?” Minho asks somewhat sweetly, but his hips moving in slow circles make it hard for Chan to think beyond anything that isn’t Minho’s tightness around him.

It takes a few seconds until he manages to say it, embarrassed hiccups interrupting the words.

“Choke m-me.”, The words are nearly in audible, so he tries again after second. “Please, choke me.”

Minho all but growls, his cocks spurting another drop of precum at the pure thought of pulling Chan to completion by slowing down the bloodflow to his brain. His face turning even more red from his fingers alone.

“ _Fuck_ , puppy, you’re so filthy. Can’t even cum without that?”, It’s empty words, given he already came once before, but Chan nods eagerly at Minho anyway. “Guess I’ll give you what you want.”

Minho can only bathe in the look of pure bliss on Chan’s face for a second, before extending his arms and putting his hands around the others neck, not yet pressing down. Chan’s eyes immediately roll back, his hips hiking up into Minho as his whole body erupts in goosebumps and shudders.

Taking a deep breath, Minho wills down the cramps tearing at his shaking legs before beginning to lift himself up on Chan’s lengths, his neighbour’s fingers still on his waist but no purpose behind the touch. No help.

So Minho works himself into a steady and deep rhythm, Chan perfectly grazing his prostate with every thrust, before finally tightening his hold around the other’s neck.

It takes Chan by surprise, his mind already lost in the feeling of Minho just moving around him, so when he suddenly feels pressure on the side of his neck, a light force even on his windpipe, he chokes on his spit and can barely get a last deep breath of air in.

Minho doesn’t stop until his knuckles are turning white by the strength of his grip around Chan, his pulse thrumming quickly through his veins and chest heaving in wheezing, exhausted tastes of air.

The sound rattles around Minho when he picks up the pace of his hips, chasing his orgasm with Chan who is thrusting into him as well, showing Minho that he is enjoying this just as much.

Chan’s face is turning a deeper shade of red by the second, veins bulging on his forehead and temples as his mouths goes slack, barely even trying to suck in some oxygen. His whole body goes limb a few moments after, trembling fingers falling to the side as he lets Minho use him, tears long since a steady stream over the hot skin of his face.

He’s about to reach his limit, lightheadedness turning into a slightly uncomfortable hint of panic when Minho screams out his name, clenching down around both his cock and his neck hard, coming all over Chan’s stomach and chest.

Minho’s fingers cramp up and loosen their grip and with the first wave of blood and oxygen making way into his system, Chan comes too. He pushes Minho down by the hips, careful to not waste any of his release as stinging wave after wave wash over him and into the other.

A whimper leaves Minho, when Chan holds him there, grip bruising and his insides begin to feel raw and sore, quivering with every small movement of cum and Chan’s softening cock touching him.

They stay like this either way, both exhausted and hurting but utterly _sated_. Minho feels like all of his stress is pushed miles and miles away as long as Chan’s body is pressed against him. It’s like there is nothing else in the world that even matters now.

He only moves when he feels a sudden tremble run through Chan’s body, small sobs filling the air around him. Even though it hurts, Minho moves from his comfortable position on Chan’s chest, to kiss away the last stray tears on his cheeks, pressing salty wet lips against Chan’s when the other stops crying.

“Is everything okay?” He asks against Chan’s lips, slightly scared of the answer. That maybe he went too far after all. Chan quickly shakes away the worries with a nod, a smile evident against Minho’s mouth.

“I’m just so happy. No one ever did what you did, even when I asked. You’re the first to treat me how I want it.” Chan’s voice is raspy and low, and Minho makes a mental note to grab some herbal tea from his apartment later.

“Oh puppy, they couldn’t give you what you need, but now I’m here.”, Minho’s voice is also raspy, but soothing and sweet as he nuzzles against Chan’s wet cheek. “Next time you can come to my place and I’ll give you everything you deserve. I have so many toys that are just _perfect_ for you…”

Minho smiles when he feels Chan’s heart quicken where their chests are pressed together.

“So this wasn’t a one time thing?” Chan’s voice is quivering from more than the tiredness in his body and Minho leans back to be able to look into his eyes, to show him that he’s there and won’t leave Chan alone.

“Not for me, no.”, Minho says and Chan’s whole body relaxes. “I don’t think I could forget about you anytime soon.”

Chan smiles again, his whole messy and ruined face lighting up. “Thank you.” He mumbles, a weak hand pulling Minho down into a lazy kiss, the same words mumbled back against his lips by his neighbour.

It might be a strange start for them, two loads of cum slowly dripping out of Minho’s ruined hole as Chan’s throat burns up red in the vague shape of Minho’s hands, but it’s a good start. A fitting one for them and when they later duet Britney’s _Hit Me Baby One More Time_ in the shower, no one has to know about that. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this fic, please leave a comment and tell me about it... those really help motivating me...
> 
> Also, if you want to follow my twitter for spoilers/ horny thirst tweets/ rants, feel free to do so. I plan on doing more celebratory fics in the future! My user is the same as here @ninchannie :3
> 
> ~N


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